The Great Rotation (2)
“Lord. The scouts… the goblins have returned.”
The goblin who entered the tent was unlike ordinary goblins—long-legged and slender. Trembling under the orcs’ bloodlust, he still delivered his report.
“The soldiers approaching from the western Akran Mountains are from the human nation called the Splain Empire. And the forces coming from the east… are a mix of elves, dwarves, and beastkin.”
“Then, goblin chieftain’s son, where do you think we should strike first?”
Maksha pondered for a moment before answering.
“We should engage the mixed human forces approaching from the east first.”
“Correct. You’re sharper than most orcs.”
At Orchan’s words, the orcs inside the tent flared with anger, their killing intent surging, yet none dared act on it.
“Orcs never consider striking one side before the other. We simply prepare, wait, and smash whatever comes. Goblins, on the other hand, are used to gaining advantage through means other than a head-on clash.”
Orchan believed the combination of a goblin’s cunning and an orc’s overwhelming strength would be terrifying. Of course, that was precisely why humans had never been defeated by orcs and goblins alone.
“We strike the eastern humans first—the ones mixed with the Six Kingdoms’ forces. Even if they’re gathered together, their chain of command won’t be properly established. All warriors and even retired orcs will move.”
“Then the Valley of Origins will be left empty. Humans will enter the place where our ancestors’ spirits breathe.”
“We cannot allow our ancestors’ spirits to be trampled and defiled by humans.”
The orcs revered the spirits of their ancestors, and the Valley of Origins—where past chieftains and orc lords were buried—was equally sacred. They found the thought of that holy ground being occupied by humans deeply humiliating.
“Protecting tradition and sacred land is admirable, as you say. But if we win this war, our ancestors’ spirits will no longer be confined to this narrow valley. The entire continent will bear the mark of the orc’s great spirit. Do you want a cramped valley, or a vast continent?”
Under Orchan’s powerful words and his gaze looking down upon them, the orcs envisioned not a narrow valley, but a boundless continent.
“The same goes for goblins and kobolds. Will you live in narrow, dark caves, or in the grand castles humans have built?”
“I-I want to live in a castle.”
“Keng-keng, I want to run through human castles!”
“Then mobilize every goblin and kobold. Move every last one eastward to strike the humans—so that not a single orc, goblin, or kobold remains in the Akran Mountains!”
“We follow the Lord.”
“Lok’tar Ogar!”
The fortress city of Raho had once been the commercial hub where the region’s goods gathered, before the orcs’ uprising. After the orcs seized it, it became nothing more than a vast granary protected by walls.
“Goblins and orcs have been spotted on the walls. The gates remain broken.”
At the scout’s report, Count McCain and several nobles nodded in agreement. A fortress whose gates could not be closed would be easy to take.
“Even if the gates are open, remember what we discussed in the meeting—if the orcs refuse to be drawn out, we must withdraw.”
“Of course.”
There was no reason to waste soldiers capturing a fortress they could not claim as their own territory.
“Advance with the siege rams!”
Protected by roofed siege engines that could withstand attacks from the walls, shield-bearing soldiers began advancing in formation.
Boom! Crash!
The soldiers flinched at the sound of stones striking the rams’ roofs, but with thick shields raised, they safely passed through the gates.
“Seize the walls first! We’ll create a foothold for the rest of the troops!”
At the knight’s command, soldiers burst from behind the shield wall and charged. They tried to take the walls adjacent to the gates with spears at the ready, but they could not break through the orc warriors already positioned on the stairs. Though a few soldiers continued slipping inside under the cover of shields, they failed to secure the walls. After more than thirty minutes, there was still no progress.
“Pull back! Retreat! Raise your shields!”
Unable to capture the gates and adjacent walls, the knight ordered a withdrawal. The orcs and goblins pursued, slamming into the soldiers’ shields.
The thunderous impacts of bodies against shields and stones crashing from the walls created a terrifying atmosphere, yet the knight believed the operation had succeeded. The orcs had come pouring out to chase the retreating shield-bearers. Orcs always charged forward with tunnel vision when pursuing an enemy. Therefore, more orcs would now be streaming out of the fortress in their wake.
Dozens of soldiers had died, but the objective had been achieved. The knight was certain they could easily capture Raho.
Dong~ Dong~ Dong!
Yet before they had even gone twenty meters past the gates, the sound of drums rang out and the orcs withdrew.
“Orcs retreat at the sound of drums?”
Not only the knight but every veteran of orc battles stared in shock. The orcs’ disciplined movement looked more like that of well-trained human soldiers.
Witnessing this, Count McCain and the nobles abandoned any thought of fighting. If the orcs would not be lured outside the walls, they were not an opponent to engage now. The open gates had made the fortress seem like an uncorked bottle of wine, but drinking that wine would require spilling far too much blood—and even then, the wine might not be theirs to claim. Withdrawing was the wiser choice.
“Retreat! Rejoin the central army!”
From the walls, goblin Maksha watched the human soldiers withdraw and considered his options.
“Pursue the retreating humans.”
“The Lord ordered us to hold here.”
“The Lord said to hold until the appointed day, then strike the humans’ central army. He also said that if the situation changed, I could take command.”
At the tall goblin’s claim that the Lord had granted permission, the orcs had no choice but to stand down. The Lord’s authority was that absolute.
“You believe this is that moment of change?”
“It is. We must attack while the humans are retreating. For victory!”
“Lok’tar Ogar!”
“The orcs are coming out!”
At the soldier’s cry, Count McCain turned with a delighted expression—only to immediately frown. Orcs were pouring not only from the broken main gate but from other gates as well. There had to be at least several thousand of them. The four thousand Shuzel Kingdom soldiers were hopelessly outnumbered.
“Fall back while maintaining defensive formation!”
Though the count gave the order, he knew a fighting retreat was impossible. It might have worked if they had prepared from the start, but the soldiers—already ordered to withdraw and rejoin the central army—had only one thought in their heads: survival. These were not elite troops. They would simply flee toward the central army to stay alive.
“Cavalry and mercenaries, form a defensive line and hold them off! Buy time for the soldiers to organize!”
“Damn it! Damn it!”
User Tirita spat curses. Thanks to his performance two days ago when they seized the bridge, he had been placed at the vanguard of the assault on Raho—and now he was the first to face the orc counterattack.
“Raise your shields and move backward in step! As long as the shields hold, we can withstand anything!”
At Tirita’s shout, the mercenaries and soldiers poured strength into their shields. A strange power seemed to flow into them, filling their grips with renewed force. Tirita’s skill, Crowd Military Service, had activated.
Crash! Bang!
An orc warrior hurled his entire body against the shield wall as if a massive bull had charged. Yet the wall, held with desperate strength, only shuddered—it did not break. Though Tirita’s skill allowed them to keep retreating, the relentless impacts from orc warriors and the encirclement from all sides eventually began to fracture even the seemingly unbreakable shield wall.
Thud!
A burst of sound erupted, and the stench of blood filled the air inside the shield wall. The skill enhancing the party members’ abilities was active, but the force exceeded its limits. The shield shattered. Through the gap, an orc wielding a mace charged in, and the soldiers holding the line collapsed.
“Scatter and run!”
Tirita shouted and threw his shield, rolling away. But orcs and goblins already surrounded them on every side. The humans had become prey, fleeing in panic. Tirita tried to turn and escape, yet there was nowhere left to run.
“Ugh… damn it…”
Seeing the spearhead burst through his stomach, Tirita’s consciousness faded.
Because Jinu had been with the supply convoy when Count McCain’s retreat order came, he immediately climbed onto a wagon. As he prepared to depart, he saw orcs pouring from the fortress and did not look back.
“We’ve been had! Move as fast as you can!”
He urged the confused people around him into motion. Soon, the screams of dying soldiers reached their ears.
“Mage-nim! Where are we going?”
“To Brick Village! Everyone, head for Brick Village!”
Normally they should have joined Marquis Merchelle’s central army, but that was three or four days away. Brick Village was the closest location with any geographic advantage. For now, fleeing there was the best option.
The supply wagons and soldiers followed Jinu.
Once the retreat order had been given and the orcs struck during the withdrawal, the soldiers scattered in every direction. Orc riders began to run rampant, hunting the fleeing troops. When Nyangkre, an orc warrior, spotted several wagons heading in a different direction, he decided to pursue them.
Thirty orc riders and forty agile goblins rejoiced when a village appeared ahead—they believed they had struck gold. But when shield-bearers lined up on the stone bridge leading into the village, blocking the entrance, Nyangkre laughed at the crude human defense.
Human horses might not clear such a shield wall, but the mountain wolves his kind rode were different. They could leap over the shields, trample the humans, and bound onward again. Nyangkre dodged arrows fired from beyond the bridge and drove his wolf forward, aiming to clear the shield wall.
“Huh?”
A small bottle filled with fire flew toward him. He tried to swat it away with his blade, but with a bang, the bottle exploded. Flames filled his vision, and liquid fire poured over him and his wolf.
“Graaah!”
More explosions followed. The orc riders trailing Nyangkre were turned into living torches by the Bacchus firebombs hurled by the beastkin Uba and the catkin Oso.
“Firebombs thrown by beastkin are more accurate than anything humans can manage. It’s basically cheating.”
Brick Village was the perfect defensive position—as long as nothing could fly. However, the goblins had begun climbing along the sides of the stone bridge rather than its surface.